Adventures in Shingo-sitting
by HTK
Summary: What starts as a day of training with his idol turns into much more than Shingo had ever bargained for. NOTE: contains some m/m and lots of silliness. Beni, you ho!


AUTHOR'S NOTES: ****

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

1. This fic does not have any actual sex in it. It's got people who WANT to have sex, but no actual action. However, were there to be action, it'd be between GUYS. M/M. Accordingly, if that bothers you, don't read it… though we think you'd be missing out since the fic's basically a comedy.

2. This fic is a HTK [HenTai Kyoudai] production, from the twisted minds of [**K'**][1] and [****][2]Benimaru. Strangely enough, even with those names… we're both girls. And that's not the kind of hentai you're thinking of, foo'.

3. Shingo would like to thank his thesaurus and all melodramatically bad ficcers everywhere.

4. CYS really is the name of the New Face Team's band. Think about that one for a while.

5. See if you can spot everyone's catchphrases, translated into English! ^_^ Yes! We actually PLAY this game! We don't just fic about it!

****

ADVENTURES IN SHINGO-SITTING

__

~~~ What a day for a daydream, custom-made for a daydreaming boy… ~~~

One day, Kyo Kusanagi was walking down the street. His loyal puppy, er, follower, Shingo Yabuki, was trailing behind him like a little red wagon, except not squeaking. They arrived at Kyo's house; Kyo unlocked the door and went inside, and Shingo followed with starry eyes... it was one of those glorious heavenly occasions when Kyo actually brought him to his home.

Today was extra special... Kyo brought Shingo up to his room, where he shucked his school uniform and tossed his shirt in a corner. Kyo stood around wearing nothing but a pair of black pants while he rifled through his desk drawer; Shingo sat down on Kyo's bed and tried not to pass out from the sheer Kyo-ness of everything around him. This was Kusanagi-san's room... that was Kusanagi-san's dresser... over there, Kusanagi-san's bookshelf... and the bed... Kusanagi-san slept in this very bed! He was ON KUSANAGI-SAN'S BED! ......

When he woke up again, only a few minutes had passed, according to the clock on Kyo's wall. Kyo was still sifting through the contents of his desk and didn't appear to notice that Shingo had fallen over and was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Shingo wondered if he'd ever see the ceiling from this perspective again... possibly while sharing the bed with Kusanagi-san... he decided right then to stop thinking about that before he passed out again. He pulled his little notebook out of his pocket and opened it close to his face, blocking out the sight of the ceiling. He studied the list of moves he'd written down over the course of his teaching by Kyo.

Down, Down-forward, Forward, Punch... Fireball. In the margin he'd written "You left yourself wide open," which was what Kyo always said when he did that particular move.

Half-circle back, kick... he'd come up with that himself. In a creative decision which no doubt had astounded Kusanagi-san, he called it the "Shingo Kick."

"Shingo, I'm going to go make a phone call, okay? Just hang out here, I won't be long." Kyo's voice floated back to Shingo, who peered out from around his little notebook in time to see Kyo's bare back passing the doorframe.

Shingo flipped several pages forward in his notebook, where he started a new entry in his journal.

"_Kusanagi-san invited me into his room.... but the best part was... I had the rare privilege of beholding the half-naked form of my idol, Kyo Kusanagi. I couldn't help but feel light-headed as I gazed upon his Adonis-like physique. Why, with the light tan acquired from training outdoors, he really does resemble the Greek gods of legend. My breath caught in my throat as, with one sinuous, graceful motion, his slim form rose from his chair. The crimson rays of the setting sun briefly bathed him in a chiaroscuro of the flame-bright orange of the dying day and a deep red darkness; rust-colored shadows haunted his body's clean lines briefly before he moved, pantherlike, away from the influence of the stained-glass sky beyond the window, into the darkness of his doorway._

He said to me, 'Shingo, I'm going to go make a phone call,' in his golden, melodic voice; it rang forth like a bell, and I am but an angel who becomes winged at the merest resounding tone from his godlike throat. The best part was when I heard my own name flow forth from that beautiful mouth. That voice...it calls me like a glorious siren song...but I had to resist, even though to crash upon the rock-strewn beach of his anger would be a way to die which would send my soul flying to the highest reaches of the heavens. My unworthy name escaping from those soft lips... how many times have I studied his beautiful face while I was lying on the ground, my lifeblood draining slowly from my wounds... him standing over me, extending a hand, sweet nothings dropping into my yearning ears, such as, 'I hope you're not dead.' He cherishes my life, my continued existence in this transient world! How can I feel dead when HE is near me? I never feel more alive, more aware of every sensation, than when he touches my neck to check for my pulse, his long, slender fingers passing over my throbbing veins, pressing against my dampened skin, calling to my very blood; sometimes I think that I can feel his pulse in his fingertips, echoing my own, the staccato beat of his heart tingling against mine.

It took all my willpower to not leap towards him, to grasp him in my arms and feel his firm, defined muscles rippling beneath his tawny, satiny skin. I wanted to run my fingers through Kusanagi-san's silken locks and drown in the deep, warm, maple-sugar pools of his eyes. I can see it...the twilight sun catching against those gorgeous eyes, revealing sparkling flecks of gold. And he murmurs to me, 'Shingo...there are things I have yet to teach you...things that I must teach you.'

I'm breathless, caught in the sweet, gossamer web of his passionate embrace. A sound barely escapes my throat as he smiles knowingly, bringing his lips to my cheek, my mouth--as his mouth slides against my skin like a cool, smooth instrument of sweet torture, he touches my lips with his tongue; the brief taste of his mouth is like the brandy of the damned. He pins my hands to his mattress. I vainly resist his advances, but not because I do not desire his caress - it is to bring him closer to me, to make my beloved press his supple body against mine as he gently forces my prone form deeper into the pheromone-scented sheets that cover his bed. Oh, if only I'd thought to remove my t-shirt as he had! It forms a barrier between us, thicker than the atmosphere that separates the earth from the stars.

'Shingo,' he purrs, once again my name floating free of those seductive lips like a butterfly flitting from a blooming flower. 'Shingo, I obviously haven't trained you enough yet... You left yourself wide open.'

He releases one of my hands, but I make no effort to escape from the prison of his body's touch... I can do no more than to stare into his eyes, soft and warm like brown velvet. His smoldering, sensuous gaze enthralls me, enough to keep me from even breathing, lest I create even the tiniest of spaces between us. He drops his own hand, sliding it slowly underneath my loosened--"

Shingo snapped his notebook shut, shoving it in his jacket pocket as Kyo reentered the room, then quickly shook off his jacket and pressed it over his lap, trying to look as casual as possible.

Kyo gave him an odd look. "Ready to go, Shingo? I gotta be somewhere soon."

"Uh... Kusanagi-san... can I just, uh, sit here and think for a bit?"

"Well, Shingo, you've been sitting here for the last ten minutes..."

"Then can I use your bathroom?"

"Well... sure, of course. It's down the hall to the--" Kyo broke off as Shingo shot by him, bent nearly double.

"Iknowwhereitisthanks!"

"He must have to go really bad," mused Kyo. He rifled through the clothes draped over his other chair until he found something fairly clean, and then put it on. He checked his watch. It had been almost five minutes.

He strolled down the hall and tapped on the door.

"Shingo? Are you okay? What're you doing in there, man, reading a novel?"

There was a brief yelp of surprise, and then a slightly lower, muffled, and more drawn out moan; he could swear he heard his name, but before he could say anything like, "What?" or "Yes?" the toilet flushed and there was the sound of the sink. He decided Shingo must have had intestinal troubles or something, and been embarrassed to have his teacher knocking on the door. Kyo felt rather guilty for interrupting the privacy that all humans needed at moments like that, and retreated down the hall to his room. When Shingo returned, looking rather flushed, Kyo flashed him a friendly smile. Shingo immediately turned bright red. _I must have really embarrassed him_, Kyo thought. He decided to change the subject and save the poor boy's pride.

"Look, we need to get going," he repeated, and led the way out of his room, Shingo trailing him as usual. "I hate to tell you this, kid, since I know you'll be disappointed, but I have to hang out with Yuki today, so I can't bring you along."

"But... but Kusanagi-san, I thought we were going to train..."

"Well... look, I thought of that, I think I've got it covered." Kyo stepped out onto his porch, locked the door, and headed up the sidewalk. After a few blocks, a familiar blond head came into view; Benimaru had his hair down, but the sight of a tall, beautiful blond man in tight black clothing still attracted the attention of everyone on the street, which was of course what Benimaru was going for. Otherwise he would have been wearing a soft, comfy sweater. He had one at home for sitting around in when he wasn't trying to seduce anyone.

He saw Kyo and waved; Kyo waved back. Shingo waved too, in a half-hearted fashion, and Benimaru blew Shingo a kiss and grinned at the boy's deep blush.

"What's up, Kyo?" said Benimaru as his friend approached. "You sounded annoyed on the phone."

"Eh, well, Yuki basically threatened to come over and cry on my porch if I didn't go out with her," replied Kyo. "So I have to go. The neighbors would give me hell, ya know. The problem is that I told Shingo we'd practice; but since I have to call it off, can you help me out and do a little training with him? I don't want to just desert him; I did say I'd teach him, and it's not his fault I'm suddenly busy tonight. You were second place in the tournament; I'm sure you can teach him something."

"I'll guess I can try to teach him my cheap jump kick," said Benimaru doubtfully. "He doesn't need any special powers beyond strong leg muscles to do that... which is good since he doesn't have any. But I'm much more graceful and have much longer, slimmer legs than him... he doesn't look very aerodynamic at all..."

"Look, if you can teach him to block correctly I'll be thankful. I've gotta go. I don't need to get home tonight to find some long whining message on my machine..."

"Okay, okay, I'll take him." Benimaru winked at Shingo. "In any way he cares to be taken." Shingo did not redden perceptibly, but that was probably because he had been continually blushing for the last several minutes. Benimaru had made sure to be constantly standing in some of his more outrageously libidinous poses.

"Stop playing with the boy's head, Beni. Look, I'll see you guys later, okay? Bye."

As Kyo walked off with the step of a man who knows his fate and dreads it, Benimaru and Shingo headed down the street to in the other direction.

"So, Shingo, where do you think would be a good place to train?" asked Benimaru, who had decided to have some pity on the boy and let him stop blushing for a while.

Shingo opened his mouth to answer and was interuppted by a muffled beep. Shingo looked around, then noticed Benimaru had extracted a small digital dayplanner, about the size of a large pager, from somewhere in his tight clothing.

"Where were you keeping that?" he asked, a little afraid to know the answer.

"A boy's got to have his secrets," said Benimaru coyly. "I'll just say I'm a master at keeping unsightly lumps out of my jeans." He grinned as Shingo's face suddenly reddened again. Then he checked the dayplanner and groaned. "Aw, man, I totally forgot. I've got a hair appointment today. Gotta get my split ends cut off, you know." He ran his hands up through his hair, a faint flicker of electricity sparking around his fingers, and made his hair stand up the way he did before fights. "See, when I do this to my hair, if I've got split ends it makes them so much worse. So I've got to get them chopped before my next big fight..." He smoothed his hair down again.

"So... we can't train, then?" said Shingo. He felt rather disappointed. Even if Nikaido-san wasn't Kusanagi-san, he was certainly a good person to train with, and fairly fun to hang out with. Even if he did make Shingo feel like his stomach was tied in knots sometimes, in a way that was very similar to the way Kusanagi-san made him feel all the time.

"We can train tonight, sure, but I have GOT to take care of this first. I made this appointment three weeks ago; it's with this fantastic stylist. He's extremely in demand. I can't beg off and get another appointment tomorrow with a man that busy, you know? But it shouldn't take more than an hour or two... on the other hand I'd feel bad if you were just sitting there waiting the whole time..." Benimaru sighed and cupped his chin in his hand; he threw one of his hips out in a dramatic thoughtful pose, and rested his other hand on it. He secretly admired the effect this sort of rolling hip movement had on the innocent Shingo.

Then he happened to look across the street, where a familiar brooding presence was sitting on a park bench, surrounded by cooing pigeons. His smile widened and he trotted across the street, Shingo following uncertainly.

"Yagami! How's it going, man?"

Iori looked up, one slightly crazed amber eye hidden by a fall of blood-red hair. He put down the little bag of bread crumbs he'd been holding in one of his massive, claw-like hands. "What is it, Nikaido?"

"Uh... well... I was wondering if you'd do me a favor, actually."

"Why should I?"

"Um..." Benimaru looked around and spotted a butcher shop across the street. "Look, I'll go buy you a big raw t-bone if you'll help me out here, man."

Iori also looked at the butcher shop. "Well, what exactly do you want?"

"Er... well, you see, Kusanagi wanted me to watch his student here, train with him a bit, ya know, since he suddenly had something come up... but when I said yes I totally forgot about my hair appointment. I just want you to babysit--er, hang out, with Shingo for a while and keep him entertained. I'd feel bad if he was just sitting around the salon doing nothing."

Iori looked at Shingo. "You want me to hang out with _him_? He's like Kusanagi, only not interesting."

"That's not fair," protested Benimaru. "His naivete can actually be extremely amusing, and look how cute he is."

"I don't hang with Kusanagi because he's cute. I spend time with him because the roaring primal mix of hatred and lust between us is exciting. Gets the blood rushing. Sometimes we just sit around glaring at each other for hours. Maybe you could join us sometime, Nikaido. I could probably come to hate you too, though not in the same way I loathe him."

"I'm not really into hate, actually," said Benimaru. "Anyway, will you, er, watch him?"

"Yabuki and I don't have an eternal, soul-binding connection of hate, rage, destined friendship ruined by the jealousy-blinded actions of my ancestors, and general angst. What am I gonna do with him, take him to the movies?"

"I'm sure you can find something to do."

"Look, Nikaido, I don't think I really want to--"

"Two steaks. How about it? Imagine it... nice juicy steaks... dripping with fresh blood... mmmmmmm."

Iori hesitated, then gave in. "Oh, all right. Fine. I'll watch him for an hour or two. But they'd better be fresh cut steaks... the kind wrapped in paper... none of that pre-cut crap wrapped in plastic."

Benimaru looked offended. "You should know I've got more style than that." He ran over to the butcher shop, leaving Shingo alone with Iori. Iori looked up and growled at him; Shingo shrank into his jacket and pondered just going home. Before he could make some kind of excuse and run away down the street, Benimaru returned with two packages wrapped in white waxed paper, which he handed to Iori. Iori sniffed them appreciatively.

"Nice doing business with you, Nikaido. Come by my place to pick him up later, okay?"

"Yeah, should only be an hour or two. Just one thing, Yagami: don't kill him. I mean that." Benimaru wagged his finger sternly in Iori's face. "Kyo would get really pissed at me."

"I'll make an effort."

Benimaru strode off down the street, leaving Shingo and Iori by the bench. Iori sighed and stood up; Shingo shied away from him. Iori turned to pin him with a piercing glare. "Come on, we're going to my house. I'm hungry."

"You… you have a house?"

Iori turned and, if it was possible, his expression became even darker and more annoyed. "Of course I have a house, you Kusanagi-emulating loser. My family happens to have quite a bit of money, for your information. Did you think I lived on that park bench or something?"

Shingo looked down at his fingers, playing with one of his gloves. "Er… well… it's just that sometimes… uh… your clothes… well, I saw a poster for that Capcom vs SNK tournament and you looked like you'd been living in a box in an alley somewhere."

He paused and dared to look up at Iori's reaction. Shingo could have sworn that Iori's normal slightly insane stare had just taken on a touch of homicidal tendency.

"I mean, no offense. Or anything. I'm sure the Capcom artists just caught you on a really bad day. Actually, now that I think about it, in the Capcom art, even Kusanagi-san looked like someone left him out in the rain without food for a few days…"

Iori sighed. This was going to be the longest two hours of his life. But he did have these nice steaks to keep him company…and after a glance back at Shingo, he decided that if worst came to worst, he'd at least have a third source of fresh meat in the house. Then again, he had told Nikaido that he wouldn't kill the kid. Well, the kid probably wouldn't miss an arm… much.

Upon reaching the house, Iori put one of the steaks in the fridge and ripped the packaging on the other one open raggedly with his fingers, the blood inside staining his fingertips. Shingo, who hadn't eaten since school lunch and who had been through a lot in the past few hours, stared longingly at the steak and heard his stomach growl. Iori looked at him sharply.

"Um... I'm just hungry... sorry... I.. I don't suppose I can have some...?"

Iori studied him for a moment. "I suppose, since you're the reason I got it. Do you like it raw?"

"Uh, no..."

"Well, I haven't got anything to cook it with. Your loss." Picking the raw steak up in his bare hand, Iori ripped into it. Shingo sighed.

Later on, after Iori had washed his hands, they went into Iori's bedroom. Iori sat on the bed, taking out a knife and idly sharpening it with a small whetstone. He did _not_ hum to himself.

Shingo felt extremely uneasy when the only thing disturbing the silence was the scraping sound of stone on metal. He wished Yagami-san would whistle a cheerful little ditty or something. It would have made him feel a hell of a lot better.

He searched the room for a place for himself, and finally decided on a folding chair that was covered with dirty clothes and a damp towel.

"Would it be okay if I sat here?" Shingo asked, starting to sit down.

"No." Shingo shot up like a rocket. He found a spot on the floor that didn't look too terrifying.

"How about here?"

"No," Iori replied without even looking up.

"Then can I lean against your wall?"

"I'd prefer if you didn't."

"Oh. O…okay." Shingo twisted the corner of his shirt nervously in his hands. "So you just want me to stand here until Nikaido-san comes back?"

Iori sighed. "Do whatever you want. Just quit babbling. You're distracting me, and I don't think you want to see what would happen if I were to cut myself and bleed. I don't take too well to the sight of my own blood."

Shingo looked around and finally lowered himself gingerly onto Iori's rumpled bed, straddling the corner of the mattress. He looked around the room, without anything better to do. "Hey, Yagami-san?" he said, in the friendliest voice he could manage.

"What?"

"I notice we do have some stuff in common... we've both got lots of pictures of Kusanagi-san in our rooms..."

"That so?" Iori replied, clearly uninterested.

"Yeah." Shingo leaned forward to examine some of the pictures hung on the nearby wall more carefully. "Er... of course my pictures aren't full of holes and splattered with blood...and they're certainly not charred at the edges…"

"I've always felt Kusanagi looks a lot better with blood all over him," said Iori. Shingo couldn't really think of anything else to say after that. After a while he got his miniature notebook out again and started writing.

"Yagami-san?" he ventured after another long silence, absently chewing on his pen. "Do you know another word for 'brown' besides, uh, brown?"

"No."

Shingo swallowed. "Well…um…when you think of Kusanagi-san, what's the first thing that pops into your mind?"

Iori put the knife down. "Now you're sounding like that freaky shrink that Chizuru Kagura tried to get me to go to that one time. Bitch. I made sure I Blood Rioted near her office." The memory struck him as very amusing, and he started to laugh, a hand on his forehead. This quickly evolved into his trademark wild cackling that shook his entire body. Shingo could barely manage to squeak in terror, watching the Orochi man delight in his own memory of insane killing. After a few minutes, Iori's laughter subsided, and he grinned maliciously in Shingo's general direction before picking up the knife again.

After a few moments of silence, Iori looked over at Shingo again. "Why did you want to know?"

"Oh … no reason. I was just thinking about…stuff."

"Blood, death, and destruction."

"What?

"It's what I think of whenever I'm forced to acknowledge the fact that Kusanagi still exists in this world."

Shingo looked down and replied in a small, defeated voice. "Do you… you really hate him that much? Why?"

Iori smirked and opened his mouth, then reconsidered and closed it again, looking at Shingo's anguished face. _This,_ he thought to himself, _is a boy who's got pictures of Kusanagi on his wall. They're probably laminated. He's like a fucking puppy. … … I actually kinda like puppies._

"I don't really hate him that much all the time," he said after a moment. "Just sometimes. Sometimes he's not that bad, I guess, in that nice, pretty-boy way. And why? Well… it's in our blood, you know? Yagami against Kusanagi… if my ancestors hadn't betrayed his, the two of us would be bound together by the Orochi instead of divided by it. But hell, unless we can reconcile it… I'm forced to hate him, and he has to hate me." He paused. "What are you writing in that book?"

"Nothing! Just… nothing!"

"Lemme see."

"No!" Shingo desperately snapped the book shut and put it away; Iori looked like he might just snatch it away anyway. Iori stretched a muscular claw in the direction of Shingo's pocket… Shingo squeezed his eyes shut, but just as he felt like he was going to be violated or have his internal organs torn out, someone hammered on the front door. Distracted, Iori rose and slunk out into the main room to answer it. Shingo breathed a sigh a relief and fell off the bed.

Benimaru was at the door. "Holy crap, man…do you ever turn on a light or open the curtains in this place?" He let some electricity crackle off his fingertips and looked around. "Yep, definitely Spartan. You could stand to go shopping, you know."

"Look, Nikaido, if I want the services of an interior decorator, I'll ask for them, okay?" He turned back towards the bedroom. "The kid's back there. You can go get him yourself." Iori didn't look back over his shoulder as he walked to the refrigerator, suddenly desiring the sweet bloody taste of his other steak.

Benimaru blinked. "He's in your bedroom? You didn't…" His eyes grew wide.

"Unlike you, Nikaido, I have higher standards than 'it has two legs'. He followed me back there like a damned dog. Now go get him and leave. I want to be alone." After a pause and a big bite of raw beef, he mumbled through the chewy flesh, "He's no Kusanagi, anyway. You know that as well as I do."

Watching Iori tear the raw meat off the bone sent a small chill up Benimaru's spine. He had to hand it to Yagami – that man had 'terrifyingly evil' down to an art form. "Especially not in bed," he said, keeping his voice casual, and laughed. He suspected Iori could smell fear if you gave in to it. He raised his voice. "Come on, Shingo, let's get going. We can still do some kicks or whatever."

Shingo practically flew out of Iori's room. "Thank God you're here, Nikaido-san! I was afraid…afraid that he…he would…"

Iori wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve. "Afraid I would what, kid?"

  
"Nothing! Nothing at all! Let's go, NOW, Nikaido-san." Shingo was one step short of trying to crawl into Benimaru's shirt for protection. Benimaru sighed and put an arm around Shingo's shoulders.

"Thanks for the favor, Yagami," he called as he left the dark house. Iori responded with an uncaring grunt and watched the door shut, then turned back to his meat. 

"Now I can enjoy this in peace."

Benimaru took Shingo to a deserted parking lot and practiced various moves with him for a while; He mostly spent his time tossing Shingo across the place with his shinku katategoma. Shingo wasn't exactly a master of blocking. About two hours later they stopped for a rest; while they were sitting on a block of cement sharing a bottle of water, Benimaru's pants beeped again. Once again he extracted his dayplanner from somewhere mysterious and consulted it.

"Ah, I forgot, I had another plan tonight." Benimaru sighed and put the dayplanner away… somewhere… then stood up.

"What is it this time?"

"Shermie and I were going to meet for a soda and some small talk… look, I don't want to blow her off, since when she's angry, people tend to get injured. Not me, usually, since I'm pretty shock-absorbent, but I don't need Yashiro coming after me tomorrow."

"Well… I guess I can go home… I mean we did train and all…"

Benimaru smiled at him. "Hey, man, Kyo told me to get you some training and I'm going to. I'm sure that we can find someone else to spar with you for a few hours. In fact, I've got just the place in mind. Nothing ever goes on there EXCEPT practicing."

"It… it's not that messed-up Sakazaki dojo, is it? Because… uh… I don't mind practicing with Ryo alone… or with Yuri alone… but being with them both at the same time is incredibly disturbing. I don't even like to be in the same room."

"Nobody does, Shingo." Benimaru grimaced. "No, I've got somewhere else in mind. Come on."

A fifteen-minute walk later, they were standing in front of a large house. The house was right in the middle of a nice suburban area, but it stood out. It was probably all the electrified barbed wire surrounding the house, and the floodlights illuminating the front yard. The sound of machine-gun fire from the back yard was distressing.

Benimaru propelled Shingo up to the gate, where he pressed a button connected to a large metal speaker. The speaker crackled into life.

"Heidern residence, is there something you need?" asked a curt young female voice. Shingo looked down and started; a small red laser sight was trained on his chest.

"Hey, Leona, it's me, Benimaru, can I ask you a favor?"

"Oh… Benimaru Nikaido? Who are you with?"

"Shingo Yabuki. Look, I was training with him a while ago, but I have a prior engagement I have to honor. But the night's fairly young, and I was wondering if you guys would consent to giving him a little training, just for a few hours? I'll leave Kyo a message to come by and get the boy when he comes home, so he probably won't be here for too long…"

"Please wait." The speaker died. A minute later it came back to life with a popping sound. "Father, I mean Commander Heidern, gave you an affirmative. He likes the idea of getting some young guy into shape. Leave the boy to us."

"Okay. I'll see you later, Shingo." Benimaru waved and walked away, but not before pinching Shingo on the butt. He could see the boy blushing even in the dark, and walked off feeling quite pleased with himself.

Shingo stood nervously outside the gate until Leona came down from the house and opened it for him; she led him to the backyard, where the acrid smell of gunsmoke hung in the air, and spent cases littered the ground. Ralf and Clark were hiding behind large stacks of sandbags on either side of the yard.

"Hey, guys!" yelled Leona, and they both stood up and saluted. "The commander says to train this boy."

"Great," said Ralf, walking over to them. He wiped the sweat off his face and offered his hand to Shingo, who shook it and then let go as fast as he could without being rude. "We wanted to do some long-range shooting, and we needed a target." He clapped Shingo on the shoulder and laughed. "You can practice dodging," he said, in a friendly fashion.

"Don't worry, kid," said Clark, coming from the other direction. "They're only plastic bullets… you might get covered in nasty purple welts, but they won't kill you. It's good practice. How can you know when you'll need to know how to dodge incoming gunfire?"

Shingo felt like he might faint. "Uh…"

Leona took in his expression. "I think he'll need more practice before you use bullets on him, guys."

Ralf slapped him on the back, nearly knocking him over. "Great! I've been waiting for an excuse like this! Wait right here, guys." He ran into the house, slamming the door behind him. Leona and Clark stood in at-ease positions and watched the door patiently, without speaking, until it opened again a few minutes later. Ralf was carrying a number of colorful guns. Without warning he dropped all but one of them on the patio, turned, and fired at Shingo. Shingo felt something strike him in the forehead and instinctively cried out and dropped to the ground.

"Geez, man, it's just Nerf," said Ralf, walking up to him. "If you can't handle that, I've got to tell you to seriously reconsider entering the KoF tourney."

Shingo blinked a few time, rubbing his forehead to make sure it was still completely intact. "I was just a little…surprised, that's all." He glanced at the people surrounding him; grinning Ralf, smirking Clark, and expressionless Leona, and swallowed even harder. "I could just…er…peel potatoes or something…"

"That's not training," Clark said, rubbing his chin.

Ralf elbowed him and grinned, "Well, it would be good training if he ever decided to live around here, we certainly do enough of it."

Clark grinned and elbowed Ralf in return. "I know, we'll play some kind of game…how about Capture the Flag?"

Footsteps sounded behind them, and Shingo noticed Leona, Ralf, and Clark immediately snap into upright and saluting positions. He cautiously turned around to see a terrifying man wearing an eyepatch standing behind him, and it took all his willpower to not scream and run in the other direction.

"Capture The Flag sounds like a good idea," the man said, and Clark saluted. "Commander Heidern, I appreciate your approval."

So this was the commander. Shingo also stood up straighter and hoped that the sweat wasn't running off his forehead too heavily. How could someone as nice as Leona be the daughter of such a scary man?

"I'll prepare the field, Fath--uh, Commander Heidern," Leona said, and Heidern smiled and patted her on the head.

"That's my girl." He turned to Ralf and Clark. "What are you two doing standing there? Help her out, or it's potato duty all week!"

"Yes sir!"

Shingo stood by and watched with bated breath as preparations were made around him. Sandbags were stacked to make hideouts, and pieces of the fence surrounding the backyard folded out to make corridors. Finally, two flags were set up on either side of the yard, and the top of the pool was opened to make a water hazard. When all of this was finished, the Ikari team reappeared to face their commander and saluted. Shingo noticed Ralf and Clark glancing at him, and he straightened up and saluted as well. Heidern nodded, and addressed his team. "Alright, soldiers. Two on Two, and I'll referee to make sure nothing illegal happens."

"I'll be on Shingo's team," Leona offered, "It'll be a little easier on a newcomer if he's got someone to explain the rules to him."

Heidern shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Why not, Commander?" Leona cocked her head to the side slightly, Ralf and Clark shrugging their shoulders in response.

"I want you on the same team as Lieutenant Jones," Heidern explained, his one visible eye glinting dangerously. "That way he's less likely to…try anything."

Ralf jumped to his own defense, but before he could utter even the first word of his rebuttal, Heidern flexed the muscles in his hand, preparing to do his Soul Stealer if provoked enough.

"Commander, Sir, I wouldn't…"

"Lieutenant, I think it would be a terrible thing if two members of opposing teams happened to vanish in the confusion of battle, don't you? And I think it would be _especially_ terrible if someone on an opposing team happened to run out of ammo and tried to tag my daughter with his hands and they happened to go somewhere they shouldn't… don't you agree?"

"Sir, I… uh…" Ralf wilted under Heidern's cyclopian glare. "Yessir."

Shingo stared at his shoes and began to wonder if everyone in the King of Fighters tournament had a guy that liked them except him. He looked up and saw Ralf looking at Leona, and Leona staring at her hands, a very faint blush creeping up her neck. "Well," Shingo thought to himself, "I guess that man with the sunglasses doesn't have anybody, unless he likes Leona-san too. She is awfully cute." As if they could read his mind, Ralf and Clark shot Shingo a look. He gulped and uttered, "I wouldn't try anything either, Commander Heidern!"

"And why is that, Private Yabuki?"

Shingo could feel a blush creeping up past his ears and threatening to color his face. "Well, it's, that I…I mean, I like girls and…they make good friends…but…"

Heidern didn't uncross his arms when he leaned forward to look Shingo in the eye. "What does that have to do with being Sergeant Steel's teammate, Private Yabuki?"

"Oh! Oh, is that all you meant? Well…of course, I don't have any problems with that. Mission accepted, sir." Shingo did his best to mimic Clark's rigid military pose, but at best elicited chuckles from the rest of the team. Clark clapped Shingo on the back, put a Nerf gun in his hand, and led him off to the opposite side of the yard where their bunker was located.

"Sergeant Steel--"

"Call me Clark, kid."

"Clark-san, how do we play this game?" The knot of fear that had taken up residence in Shingo's stomach the moment Leona had answered the door hadn't gotten any smaller - on the contrary, he became more frightened with every moment that passed. He hoped that everyone would just stick to Nerf weapons, because not only did Shingo have no idea how to actually shoot a gun, he didn't want to die. He'd already been too close for comfort at Iori's house.

"Just don't let them get our flag, and if they do, just shoot at 'em until you hit them. In the meantime, try and get their flag and bring it back to base. Get hit, come back to base and tag the sandbags before you go out again. The commander'll, uh, discipline you if you break the rules. Just yell and tell me if you've got the flag, that way I can back you up. If I yell, you back me up. Got it?"

Shingo nodded, and arranged his Nerf gun under his arm much like Clark did. Heidern's whistle blew, and Shingo could hear light, fast, and furious footsteps advancing on their bunker.

"Just as I thought," Clark muttered, checking through the sights on his Nerf sniper rifle, "He's sending Leona out to get the flag and playing defense himself. Alright, Shingo, here's what we'll do - you run out there and try to intercept Leona, and while she's distracted by you, I'll tag her."

"But wouldn't it be a better idea if I ran for their flag—"

"Not if you don't want to catch a Galactica Phantom in the face," Clark explained as he jumped over the top of a sandbag wall. "She's coming from 2:00, kid. Get your gun ready."

As Shingo looked down to check his ammunition supply, he heard a distinctly female laugh, a faroff cheer, and a groan from Clark's direction. He looked up to see Leona with the flag in her hand, already about 3 meters from their base.

"Don't just stand there, DO SOMETHING!" Clark yelled, loading more foam balls into his gun, and Shingo panicked and did the only thing he could think of. He leapt forward from behind the bunker, launched himself towards Leona, and caught her around the legs. She looked down in shock.

"Please get her!" Shingo yelled, hoping Clark would hear.

Clark paused for a moment and trained his gun on Leona's midsection, tagging her with a Nerf ball. She dropped the flag and turned to Commander Heidern. "Sir…was that…legal?"

Heidern scratched his head. "I'm not sure. What was that move, Private?" He waited to see if Shingo would respond, but saw him writing in a little notebook instead. The commander barked again, and Shingo fumbled with the notebook and stuck it back in his school jacket. He'd have to remember that leg-grab move for use at a later date. 

"I'll allow it," Heidern finally decided, and Leona shrugged, left the flag on the ground, and jogged back to base, where she and Ralf conferred briefly while Clark and Shingo also discussed strategy. As Leona ran back out for the blue flag, Shingo dashed towards her, and Leona stealthily swept the flag up with one hand and with the other, turned her gun on Shingo, firing twice and missing twice. She cursed under her breath but kept on running until she felt a shot hit her from behind. Shingo had also been pegged repeatedly in the butt by Ralf's foam bullets, and he dropped the flag, running back to his own base.

"Okay, Shingo, we've got to get it this time. Next time Ralf sends Leona out for the flag, just blow past her and head for their flag. It's close enough that we should be able to return it," Clark explained, and Shingo nodded, dashing out before Leona even had a chance to leave the enemy base. This time, Ralf came out running behind her, and just as Shingo went for the flag, Ralf pulled his Nerf gun. Within a second, Leona picked up speed and nabbed the flag. From the corner of his eye, Shingo saw Ralf pull out something that smelled distinctly of gasoline.

"Oh shit," Clark cursed, and knew that there was only one thing he could do. He rummaged in his padded vest for something he had stored in there before the match began.

Leona saw what was about to happen, and stopped in her tracks. "What are you-"

The grenade flew from Clark's hand just as Ralf lit the napalm and launched it across the yard. Leona dove for cover beneath a few sandbags, Ralf throwing himself on top of her to cover her body. Clark dashed to the left to avoid the flaming arc of Ralf's weapon, and amidst their screams of "Yabuki, MOVE IT!", the grenade hit Shingo in the head and bounced off, exploding in a pile of sandbags nearby, showering everyone in the yard with fine grains of sand and dirt.

Shingo opened his eyes about five minutes later and blinked a few times, realizing that although he was covered in filth and very bruised, by some miracle he was still alive. He surveyed his surroundings and saw Ralf kneeling next to Leona and Clark on her other side, and Commander Heidern moving towards them like a panther stalking its prey in the jungle.

As Shingo brought himself to his feet, wobbling back and forth, he began to feel a sense of dread about what might happen if he stayed around for much longer. So, he started at a run towards the house and crashed into the closed patio door. His head was bruised and his lip bleeding, but he was still alive, and as he dashed out of the front door, he heard the commander shout, "Go to HELL!" and either Ralf or Clark shouting in terror, pain, fear, or a combination of the above.

The frightened boy paused to catch his breath, and after he panted for a few moments, a hand clapped down on his back. "I'msorrysir, Itwasn'tmyideatousethegrenade--"

"Shingo, what's going on?"

He turned around and saw the warm, glowing light of Kyo's kind, familiar face. He wiped the blood off his pale face and threw his arms around Kyo's waist. "Thank God you're here, Kusanagi-san! Let's get out of this place. They're nice people, but I can't live with the shadow of death hanging over me."

Kyo gave him a weird look. "Yeah… well… let's go, then."

On the way home, Shingo dogged his footsteps so closely that he kept stepping on the backs of Kyo's shoes; by the time they reached Kyo's house he was thoroughly irritated. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

Shingo recounted the day's events and tried not to burst into tears in front of his idol. He'd never felt like he was going to die so many times in one school day. Kyo sighed and patted his student on the back. _Next time I'll leave him with someone who hasn't got anything else to do_, he thought. _Kensou'd probably be a good choice_.

"Look, Shingo, you look stressed. I'll go get you a soda or something."

"Thanks, Kusanagi-san…" Kyo walked out of the room, and Shingo took a deep breath.

"Just be cool, Shingo," he said to himself. He pulled out his little notebook and started writing in it to relax himself. Kyo returned and tossed him a soda, which he fumbled a few times before catching it.

Kyo plopped down next to him and popped open a can of beer. "God, Shingo, you have no idea of the horror involved in hanging out with Yuki. You want to have a beer afterwards. You want to have SEVERAL beers afterwards."

"Well… what's wrong with her, Kusanagi-san?"

Kyo sighed. "Well, for one thing, she's incredibly boring. I mean, she's nice, but she's SO DULL. All she wants to talk about is her high school friends and their little cliques, like I ever cared about that kind of stuff. And she hates Beni. Not for any real reason, either. The only reason she hates him is because, okay, he is a disgusting flirt, and he's a little promiscuous…" Kyo paused. "Okay, very promiscuous. But he is my best friend, after all. She's more prudish than my grandma. Comes from being a shrine maiden, I guess. God, I hate that. And she always makes me hang out with her, but then when we finally get together, we never DO anything!"

Shingo squeaked, "D…do anything?" Hanging out with Benimaru all day had made him begin to interpret things in a way he probably shouldn't have.

"Yeah, like, today I came in her house, and her mom brought us lemonade and cookies." Kyo shook his head. "And then, I sat down on her bed, and she sat next to me and asked me to take off my jacket."

Shingo's eyes grew wide and he curled his hand around the soda can. "Then what?"

"She pulled out her sewing kit. So I sat there looking at her stuffed animals. For the next two hours. While she sewed up minor rips and made banal conversation about inane things. If I wasn't sworn to protect her life, I swear I'd kill her myself." Kyo took a big sip of his beer.

Shingo pulled out his notebook and started writing; he had to get down all the things Kyo didn't like about Yuki, and make sure he never did any of them. He jotted them down in a tidy bulleted list. "So, Kusanagi-san, what else don't you like about her?"

Kyo looked over at him. "Hey, you haven't even opened your soda." Shingo looked down, and gasped in amazement. It was his favorite kind – Barq's Red Cream Soda. Which was coincidentally also Kyo's favorite kind. He popped it open quickly and took a sip, smiling at his idol. Kyo snorted and drank some more beer.

"So, anyway, what else about Yuki? Hmm… well, it's hard to say. She's annoying. She just has no sense of my need to hang out with the guys, or be alone, or, ah, any of my other needs. For another thing, when she's not wearing her school uniform, she's got about the same sense of style that god gave platypuses. I can't believe she's friends with Athena. She's more like that boring woman Chizuru. I'd swear those two must shop together at the same ugly clothes store. Hell, I'd believe them hanging out; they're both white-bread women with their legs welded together at the knee."

Shingo looked up from taking notes. "I thought that was Yagami-san…?"

"I said welded, not belted. Heh. You'll understand when you're older… uh… maybe. Anyway, what the hell am I doing bitching about fashion? Beni must be rubbing off on me. So, yeah… Yuki's just a flake. And the older I get, the more I realize that I'm over twenty and I'm still dating some high school student."

Shingo's face collapsed like Benimaru's hair after a stunning defeat. "You.. you only want to date people your age? But Kusanagi-san… isn't love more important than a few years' difference?"

Kyo laughed. "Shingo, I don't care how old someone is. I just hate being bored, ya know? Some days it seems like everyone around me is a clone." He glanced over at Shingo. "What the heck are you writing? Did you learn a bunch of new moves today or something?"

Shingo snapped the book shut. "Uh, no. I mean yeah. That's it."

"Can I see?"

"No!" Shingo clapped his hands over his pocket protectively. "It's, uh, really boring, Kusanagi-san! You don't want to look!"

"Well, can't I just—" Kyo reached over. Shingo blushed and knocked Kyo's hand away. "Oh, come on, Shingo. I just want to see what you learned today…"

"No!" Shingo curled into a ball at the end of the couch and wouldn't meet Kyo's eyes. He was bright red.

"Okay, okay, calm down. Geez." Kyo finished off his beer and got up to take the can to the kitchen. When he came back, he frowned at Shingo, who was sipping his soda, the ruddy color slowly fading from his cheeks. "Shingo, you look terrible. You're all dirty and bruised up and dusty. What the heck were you doing?"

"I had to play war games with the Ikari warriors… it was more like war than games, I think."

"Is that blood on your face?"

"Oh… no, they didn't hurt me… much… I just got some bruises. The blood is from when Yagami-san ripped a raw steak apart in front of me and uh, blood was everywhere…"

Kyo sighed. "Some advice for you: never take Yagami to a steakhouse. You are just BEGGING for embarrassment if you do." He cocked his head to the side, studying his wan, defeated-looking student. "Look, why don't you go take a shower? It'll make you feel better. Beni's coming over later. You can hang out with us and uh, we were gonna go out clubbing or something. Some band Beni likes is playing… I think it's called CYS. Hey, cheer up, okay?"

Shingo's face was frozen in shock. Very slowly he said, "Take… take a shower? In YOUR shower?"

"Well, Beni'll be here soon, you don't really have time to go home. It's okay, Shingo, I trust you. I doubt you've got any communicable diseases or athlete's foot or anything. If you want to go with us, you'd better get a move on."

"R… right! Thank you, Kusanagi-san!" Shingo ran up the stairs and into the bathroom… he closed the door and leaned his head back against it in the cool darkness, trying to calm his racing heart. He was going to take a shower where Kusanagi-san stood naked every morning! And then he was going to go out dancing with his idol and Nikaido-san! Suddenly the events of the hellish day all seemed worthwhile.

He turned the light on and grabbed a towel off the wall shelf by the door. Then he stripped all his clothing off, carefully taking off his precious gloves and headband last. He stepped into the shower and turned it on, and decided that when Clark threw that live grenade at him, he must have been killed and gone to heaven. He opened his eyes, to see a bottle of shampoo in front of him. Kusanagi-san's shampoo! His hands shook as he poured some into his palm, and massaged it into his hair... he gloried in the smell. His hair would smell just like Kusanagi-san's! And maybe it would get a little shinier and smoother, like Kusanagi-san's… and maybe…

Shingo drifted off into a happy place where he was exactly like Kusanagi-san; unable to resist beauty so similar to his own, Kusanagi-san had fallen in love with him… and Nikaido-san was there too… He sighed happily and got shampoo bubbles in his mouth.

Kyo climbed the stairs to his room and retrieved his pager from his desk. He was on his way back down when he passed the bathroom. A sound was coming out; he paused to listen, and smiled. Shingo was singing the Psycho Soldier theme song in the shower.

There was a series of beeps, and he looked down at the pager; Benimaru was paging him. It read, "COMING OVER NOW." Kyo rapped on the door. "Hey, Shingo, Beni's coming over, you might want to hurry up in there."

"Okay, Kusanagi-san!"

Kyo slapped his pocket to check for his wallet; it wasn't there. He went back to his room to check for it, but it wasn't there either. He felt a sudden jolt of fear… he couldn't have left it at Yuki's house, could he?

Then he remembered that he'd purposely not taken his wallet there, just so she wouldn't take it and start going through it like girls always did. He didn't want her to know that while he carried pictures of Beni, Shingo, and Iori, and several of his friends' KoF teams, there wasn't one of her. Where had he left the wallet? He thought back… that was right, he'd unclipped it and left it in the bathroom. He went back to the bathroom door and knocked again.

"Hey Shingo? I'm coming in to get something, all right?"

There was the sound of a bottle falling into the tub… and then the cacophony of several other things falling into the tub also. Kyo shook his head and walked in. There was scrabbling in the bathtub, like someone picking up several slippery things and dropping them over and over.

His wallet was lying undisturbed on the counter by the sink; he grabbed it and clipped it into place. He was about to walk out again, when he noticed the tidy pile of Shingo's clothing on the floor. He grinned and leaned over, rifling through the clothing until he found Shingo's little black notebook.

At that moment, the shower turned off and Shingo pushed the shower curtain back and climbed out of the tub wearing a large, fluffy white towel around his waist. He froze with an expression of abject horror on his face when he saw Kyo standing in front of him, holding his notebook. Kyo smiled at him and ran out of the room; there was a strangled scream behind him, and the sound of someone tripping and falling on the tile floor.

Kyo stopped out in the hallway and opened the book. The early pages were filled with Shingo's small handwriting, which detailed every fighting move Kyo had ever showed him. There were even some diagrams. And tidily written next to several of the moves were the things Kyo said when he did them. He shook his head. The boy was certainly dedicated. Saishu would have killed to make his son as attentive as Shingo.

Kyo flipped the page, and found, to his surprise, a list of information about himself, tidily listed with little asterisks next to them. His three sizes, his shoe size, his inseam, his favorite food, his favorite band, his favorite kind of ice cream… he sighed. Seemed like the boy really did idolize him as much as Beni said he did.

He was about to turn the page when the sound of pounding feet behind him caught his attention. He closed the book and turned around, but didn't expect the armful of half-naked Shingo that he got. Shingo charged him, wearing nothing but his pants, which weren't zipped up.

"Kusanagi-san! Please give it back!"

Shingo leapt. Kyo, who wasn't expecting Shingo to jump on him, fell back against the wall with Shingo pressed up against him. Shingo grabbed the little book. Kyo tried to grab it back, but Shingo curled up around it. Kyo grinned and decided to torment the poor boy a little.

He put his foot on Shingo's hip and pushed; the boy, off balance, reeled across the hallway and bumped into the other wall. While he was waving his arms trying to get his balance back, Kyo rushed him and snatched at the book. But Shingo saw him coming and pulled his arm in just in time. This threw him off balance again and he lurched into Kyo's stomach. Kyo twisted his leg around Shingo's, trying to trip the younger boy, while he wrapped his arms around Shingo's back and tried to get ahold of Shingo's wrists. He caught hold of one and wrenched it into the air, but Shingo had managed to transfer the book to his other hand. He bent himself over the book, trying to elbow Kyo away with his free arm, forcing his hip into Kyo's groin, trying to keep Kyo away from the book. Kyo dropped the wrist he was holding and quickly slipped his arm under Shingo's chin, forcing the boy's head up, trying to make him stand up straighter. Shingo clutched the book to his ribcage, his free hand stretched out behind him, on the ridge where Kyo's thigh met his pelvic pone, struggling to push Kyo away. The entire time, they did a complicated dance, Shingo always managing to move his feet before he was swept off of them.

"What the heck are you guys doing?"

Benimaru was standing at the top of the staircase, staring at them with great interest. He had a little smile playing over his lips. Kyo realized the position he was in, half wrapped around the shirtless Shingo, and straightened up sheepishly. Shingo, breathing hard, remained facing the wall, the book gripped loosely in one hand pressed to the wall. Benimaru strode forward and snatched it before either Shingo or Kyo could react.

"Nikaido-san!" Shingo's voice rang with desperation as he turned and lunged at Benimaru. Benimaru smiled at him and suddenly sparked with electricity… Shingo had to back off before he was electrocuted. He stood in the hallway staring in a kind of dumbfounded horror at Benimaru, who was flipping through the book. He was hoping the floor would open up and swallow him.

"Shingo," said Kyo, in a concerned voice. "Did I hit you in the face by accident?"

"Huh?" Shingo put his hand to his face. His lips were covered in blood. It was dripping off his nose onto his bare chest. "Oh god," he moaned, and ran away into the bathroom, cupping his nose, his blush visible even from behind, spreading from his neck down his pale back.

Shingo stood in the bathroom staring at his face in the mirror. The nosebleed had stopped quickly, and he'd washed the evidence off, but how could he face the two of them now? Kusanagi-san would never speak to him again. He stared at his face. He was still blushing furiously, and he couldn't stop. Every time he thought about Kyo… Kyo's hands all over his bare skin… Kyo's thighs rubbing against his hips… Kyo's chest pressed against his back… and that one brief moment at the beginning when Kyo's face had been less than an inch from his own… If it hadn't been for the book, it would have been the happiest moment of his life.

Someone walked in and tapped him on the shoulder; looking up in the mirror he saw Benimaru standing behind him with a big grin on his face. He clenched his teeth and stared down into the sink.

"Okay, so I like him. Don't make fun of me. Nobody but me was ever supposed to see that…"

Benimaru took one of Shingo's unresisting hands off the counter and put the book into it.

"Why would I make fun of you? I certainly know what it's like to look at him and want him."

"Is he mad?"

"I didn't tell him." Shingo looked up, into reflected smiling blue eyes. He could swear there were sparks in the backs of them. "I told him the book was mostly full of fighting moves, and you didn't want him to see it because you were developing a few new moves and didn't want him to know about them before you could show him yourself."

"Re… really?" Shingo suddenly felt like he'd been reborn. Somehow it didn't seem so bad if only Benimaru knew. Probably Benimaru could think of much dirtier things than he could. "But… aren't you jealous?"

"Shingo, I'm very rarely lonely at night, even when Kyo's busy. See, when I really, really want something, I go and get it. I don't just follow it around." Benimaru patted Shingo on the shoulder. "The first thing you should do is stop writing stuff like that down. Rip those pages out and stop carrying that kind of thing around with you, unless you want a repeat performance of tonight with someone else. Also, take care of that nosebleed thing. It's kind of a giveaway."

"I know."

"And it might be good for you to cultivate that ability I mentioned to hide those unsightly lumps in your jeans."

Shingo felt his face getting hot again. "Well… the nosebleed thing I can probably take care of, but what can I do about the… uh… the other thing?"

"Well, if I were you, I'd start by zipping up my pants."

Shingo did so, and then sighed. "Nikaido-san… I wish I was like you. You don't seem to have any problems with, uh, getting close to Kusanagi-san… or whoever…"

"That's basically because I have almost no shame. Unlike you. I think you must have my share. Anyway, Shingo, how about this? While we're out clubbing tonight, I'll teach you to dance, and I'll show you some of the ways I usually use to get close to Kyo… or whoever. But the most important thing, Shingo, is self-confidence. You have to actually try to DO the things you want to do, not just think about them."

"But…but Nikaido-san…"

Benimaru leaned his head over Shingo's shoulder, so their cheeks were almost touching, his long blond hair tickling Shingo's collarbone, and met Shingo's eyes in the mirror. "Look, Shingo, if I just sat around thinking about groping you, and never did anything, then it'd never happen, would it?" He grinned and stepped back when Shingo looked away. "It's like fighting. If Kusanagi showed you a new move, and you wrote it down really carefully but never actually tried it, you'd never learn to do it, right? Same principle. Now put some clothes on and let's go. Don't worry. If things go well for you tonight, well, I've got a friend in the band I can hang out with afterward, and you can come home alone with Kyo." He laughed. "And if things don't work out as well for you and you need comfort, well, you can always come home with me." He grinned at Shingo's wide-eyed reflection and walked out of the bathroom.

Shingo pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the coming nosebleed brought on by Benimaru's affections. He took a deep breath and quickly dressed. "Tonight, just play it cool, Shingo."

Please R&R! We love knowing what people think! And whether or not you liked it, please tell us WHY, okay? ^_^;;

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